


who we are is shaped from dust

by watchmaster-bryce (Raayner)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Gen, the mighty nein daemon!au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-07 05:29:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14664288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raayner/pseuds/watchmaster-bryce
Summary: Daemons in Exandria: The story of how each member of the Mighty Nein settle.





	1. Jester & Honey

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always a slut for daemon au's so I decided to write my own! 
> 
> This will have backstory that will be debunked eventually and I've made peace with that. Graphic depictions of violence tagged due to ep18 and us now knowing that Caleb lore. So just in case.
> 
> watchmaster--bryce.tumblr.com come say hi for all your cr2 needs

Honey settles when she’s seventeen, after the Traveller visits for the first time.

Growing up, her daemon had never stuck with one shape for long, always shifting, changing with her moods and becoming many different grand, extravagant creatures to entertain themselves in their room. It would be _weird_ to have her stay one shape _forever_! And she was so small!

Jester grinned, thinking of the pranking possibilities.

“Honeybun!” magic buzzed in her fingertips, “let’s go steal mom’s bear claws!”

The bumblebee floated lazily down to land on her nose with a giggle, black and yellow stark against freckled blue.

“And her tea,” Honey said.

“And her tea!” Jester agreed, already halfway out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honey: Bumblebee


	2. Beauregard & Charlemagne

Beau had always been a disappointment in her parents’ eyes.

From birth, she had gotten everything wrong: Charlie being male, Beau being a girl, Beau not being the  _ right _ kind of girl. Making out with her father’s business partner’s daughter. At said business partner’s estate. In front of guests.

As far as her parents were concerned, settling was the one thing Beau had done properly.

What bullshit.

They had tried so many different shapes just to piss them off, and here they were! Beau had wanted Charlie to be something awesome and cool  _ and _ the exact opposite of what her parents wanted. Like a monster, or something gross, or maybe something crazy! Like that Ashari in Tal’Dorei with her goat-sized dragon daemon. Even better, he could’ve been something small and portable, like a snake or a bird.

But no.

He  _ had _ to settle in the most inconvenient shape.

She glared down at him from her seat atop the wall while he stared placidly back, licking a paw.

“Why’d you have to be so fuckin’ big.”

Charlie huffed back at her, tail tip flicking, but didn’t answer. Whatever, asshole. She got it, but that didn’t make it less annoying.

She stood, hands on her hips, stone wall below her feet, surveying the empty field on one side, her daemon on the other.

“Ready for more?” she asked.

He nodded, shaking out his mane, and braced his bulk against the stone. Teeth bared in her approximation of a smile, she hopped down to the grass and began walking.

They’d get more range or die trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlemagne (aka Charlie): East African Lion


	3. Nott & Obber

Goblins didn’t have daemons.

This was untrue, but it didn’t stop people from believing it.

Maybe it was because they almost always settled small, or because there was a touch taboo among the clans. Or maybe it was just that the other races of Exandria didn’t want to acknowledge them as people.

Nott hadn’t figured it out yet. 

“ _ Nott the Brave _ ,” they had taunted when she was little - well. Little- _ er _ \- “always running away from a fight!”

Her clan had expected her to settle as something small and weak, like a worm or fly. Something with no killer instinct. (She  _ could _ kill. She just didn’t want to kill everything she fought.) When Obber settled - half her size, with sharp teeth and clever little hands - they were shocked.

_ Her? _

But then they saw he wasn’t useful like a wolf; savage and deadly, able to be ridden into battle. Or like a fox; quick and clever for scouting missions.

They laughed at her.

They beat them both bloody.

“ _ Nott the Brave and her garbage-thieving soul! _ ”

Obber was the one to suggest they leave, to find a life away from the clan and their violence. Nott agreed. They clearly weren’t made for this.

Unfortunately, as they travelled through cities, it became obvious that the other races did not think they were made for  _ this _ life either.

People saw her and thought Obber was fake; either an illusion or a tamed raccoon. Worse, if they did believe he was hers, they saw it as proof she was dirty. Trash. A thief.

If they were going to be called a thief, they wanted it to be because they actually stole something, not because of what Obber looked life.

They got better at hiding.

They got even better at stealing.

Nott thought about magic.

“If I weren’t a Goblin,” she asked one day, “would you still be that?”

“Yes.”

“Would we still be chased out of towns? Would-would people still throw rocks?”

“Not unless we were caught,” Obber bared his teeth, “but no rocks.”

“D’you think we could have a family?” she didn’t know what that would look like for them, but it sounded nice. She wanted it. Obber nosed her cheek, and she put her arms around him, playing with his fur. Nott thought about magic, and about family.

It wasn’t until they were thrown in jail (okay, this one was on them) and they met a red-haired man with haunted eyes and magic books that they thought,  _ ‘oh.’ _

Maybe they had found their answer to both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obber: Eastern Raccoon


	4. Fjord & Kala

Growing up, they had tried so hard to be normal.

It was bad enough being a half-orc orphan; Fjord didn’t need the next subject of torment to be Kala.

She tried many different forms to help them out around town. She had stayed a hound for a while, then a retrieving dog, and eventually a mastiff to help scare off the bullies. She toyed with bird shapes, a seagull one day and an osprey the next. She even tried being a fish, but nothing stuck like they hoped it would.

The boar lasted until his tusks started to grow in, then she helped Fjord file them down.

He was almost twenty when it happened, Kala still unsure and shifting restlessly from form to form. The sea sang to them in their dreams.

Fjord awoke one night to find her perched on the windowsill of their rented room, piercing hawk gaze set on the waves that crashed against the rocky shore.

“Fjord,” she said, “I want to swim.”

He felt her tension like a stone in his gut. Swallowing past the unease, he pulled his pants on and agreed. Ignoring the door, the dropped from the window and made their way to the beach.

Moonless sky above, the sea reflected only starlight and the rare torch shining from the port. The water was cold as it slowly seeped into the fabric of his pants as he stepped in.

Kala dropped from his shoulder as a fish, entered the water, and began to circle his knees. Fjord felt a deep thrumming in his bones, bassy and chilling, like he was swimming beneath some huge beast even though he was barely knee-deep in the water. He felt a swelling and then. . .

_ Anticipation. _

Kala began shifting forms rapidly; trout to salmon to octopus to squid to eel.  _ Almost. . .  _ Eel to python to boa to seasnake; shifting smaller and smaller in increments until -

Red and black, banded with yellow. Fjord had heard of these snakes; venomous and dangerous. He shivered, opening his mouth to ask ‘ _ is this it? _ ’

Kala hmmmed, stopping him.

He watched as her colour shifted, the red spreading to cover the rest of the scales, the shade muting over her body except for the bright crimson of her stomach. A few dark spots remained as small rings spread along her length.

He felt something click within him as the tension he had felt since stepping into the water drew back. He scooped Kala from the water and watched her coil around his wrist.

Not what he was expecting.

“A snake?”

Kala regarded him coolly.

“I mean, really?” he asked, watching her yawn to show off her now deadly fangs.

“Unusually normal,” she said softly, “we’re expected to be different, but I’m a comfortable different now. Hiding in plain sight.”

Fjord sighed. He didn’t want to let what other people thought get to him but. . .

Reptiles were for the cunning, the ambitious; what would people think now?

_ Well, _ he thought,  _ we won’t be the dumb  _ orc  _ now, will we. _

He wasn’t thrilled, but how could he hate what Kala was? She was him, after all. Maybe he’d just prefer it if she wasn’t so obvious.   
What little sand there was clung to his feet on the walk home. He shivered again, Kala mirroring him, but it wasn’t from the cold. Even though he knew they were alone, it felt like the water was  _ watching _ them. . . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kala: Blood-Bellied Coral Snake


	5. Mollymauk & ???

When he clawed his way through the dirt and climbed from the grave, he was alone. 

It shouldn’t have felt so weird to him - he knew  _ nothing _ \- but something was wrong. He wiped the dirt clumped to his face and from off his eyes and wrapped thin, bony arms around his shaking body.

_ Empty _ , he thought.

He made his way from the clearing to a road, staggering along it in a daze. He knew he was wearing clothes, knew he was on a road, but he didn’t know why he knew that - why he knew these things but not others.

_ Empty _ , his brain repeated.

Eventually, the circus found him.

He didn’t remember them picking him up; dehydrated and passed out in the dirt. He woke to the sound of arguing voices.

“- obviously severed!” an angry female voice said.

“We don’t know that, Ornna,” a man replied, “maybe they’re just separated!”

A snort. “Separated people aren’t near catatonic! We should turn them over to the crownsguard in the next town. They’ll be able to get them to an intercision care facility where they’ll be comfortable!”

“I don’t think -”

“We can’t care for a severed person, Gustav! It’s not -”

He must have made a noise, because the voices fell quiet. The next second he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He blinked open his eyes to see a lanky man with slightly pointed ears and a small bird sitting on his head, looking down at him in concern. Behind him must’ve been who he was arguing with: a bright-haired, dark-skinned woman with a large, tufted eared cat standing next to her. She was scowling, but the cat watched him with bright eyes. 

“Easy there,” the man was saying, “here, sit up. We picked you up not too long ago. What’s your name?”

He opened his mouth and -

“Empty,” he said.

The bird ( _ finch _ , his mind supplied from nowhere) cocked her head in confusion. 

“That’s an. . . interesting name. Do you know where your daemon is? We didn’t see them with you.”

_ Daemon. Daemon daemon daemon _ , his mind repeated.

“Empty!” he managed to choke out over the swirl of his own thoughts.

The woman stepped forward, eyes sad.

“Gustav, stop. They’re severed. We can’t - we can’t help with this.”

The man - Gustav - turned to glare at her, the finch’s feathers ruffled. “This isn’t intercision! They’re lucid enough to be aware of us, and not trying to find their daemon. The ‘empty’ thing is a little unsettling, yeah, but that doesn’t mean much! This poor individual is just disoriented and lost, and we’re gonna help them.”

They looked back at him and he squirmed beneath their scrutiny. The woman sighed heavily, shaking her head.   
  
“Okay, I give.”

“Now that that’s settled,” Gustav’s finch preened his hair while he spoke, “ is Empty your name or -?”

He shook his head. No, he didn’t know his name! He tried his best to convey this through expressions; he wasn’t sure if it worked.

Gustav smiled, patting him on the arm gently. “That’s alright! We’ll get you back on your feet! In the meantime, do you know what a circus is, perhaps?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gustav Fletching: European Greenfinch - Uclydes  
> Ornna: Caracal - Jerren
> 
> \---
> 
> so despite my best efforts of trying to resist my brain, I've decided I'm going to be doing a full retelling of campaign 2 with daemons. this chapter is short because we'll be exploring the rest of the circus and Molly later on 8)


	6. Caleb & Frumpkin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post Caleb's last but Yasha's is proving hard to write so - Caleb first!

Frumpkin doesn’t talk anymore. 

He used to all the time, until they watched their home go up in flames. Until they saw the golden Dust of Father’s Adalheid and Mother’s Waldhramm rising like smoke from the embers. 

Settling had been just another thing they were good at; at twelve he was the youngest in Blumenthal to settle in many years, and Frumpkin’s nimble, inquisitive nature and well-groomed fur led to praise from parents and peers alike. 

And then they discovered their gifts with magic!

And the academy.

And then. . .

Ikithon . 

They had been so sure of themselves, even amongst the pain he inflicted on them. When he forced all six of them to stretch their ranges to the limit, and go beyond, they were sure. When he was beat within an inch of their lives while Frumpkin had to watch, unflinching, they were sure. Even when he wrapped his cruel fingers around his fur, _they were_ __s_ ure _ . 

Until -

Caleb didn’t remember much after, just pieces. He remembered  _ breaking _ , of reaching for his parents through the still burning ash. Of Frumpkin’s fur burning in places as he scrambled furiously for Waldhramm even after the Dust had faded. Of Eodwulf and Astrid’s hands dragging him from the ruin. Darkness and silence broken only by his sobbing and Frumpkin’s broken mewling. The cold metal of the intercision machine. 

Nothing. For so long. 

Then - hands, warm and gentle on his head, and blinding pain as awareness shot through him. The woman going to (or returning?) to madness minutes later.

The warmth of Frumpkin on his lap once more, but their connection strained and held together by gossamer strings. 

They had escaped, and the moment they were away Frumpkin  _ changed.  _ Caleb felt a distant ripping sensation within as he watched him go from cat to bird; a raven, like his mother. And then he left, fleeing from Caleb’s presence. 

He didn’t return for a week. Caleb thought he should’ve stayed gone, to leave him alone like the monster he was. 

But Frumpkin returned, that feeling of tearing again, and his daemon’s feline eyes regarded him once more. Then he leapt into his lap and purred, though neither of them got the comfort they once did from the contact. 

They were broken.

And Caleb hasn’t heard Frumpkin’s voice since.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frumpkin: Chocolate Spotted Ocicat
> 
> Waldhramm: Raven  
> Adalheid: Basenji Dog


End file.
